like an old garment no longer of any use.
She will not look into the mirror anymore,
the mirror lies and she does not trust it.
She sits alone at her rickety table to admire-
the signs of its age, its scratched surface.
Her eyes close to the view through her grimy window,
denying how the moon sparkles over the sea.
Crumbling walls and rusted nails hold up nothing,
youth and beauty lost and days of laughter gone,
But in her mind there are memories,
Age- like an advancing army destroyer of all.
She knows her homeland will survive, its beauty lasting,
this land of sparkling seas and orange sunsets,
It is her that must bear the decay,
and still her eyes linger on the image held by a rusted nail.